Wishes for Everyone

Wish-Broken…

I have heard of broken hearts, broken promises…but broken wishes, seldom do I hear much of the matter. And if the concept ruled in different terms, this is the phrase I thought of using.

I’d like to think it carries a much simpler, lighter degree of disappointment.

This way, it wouldn’t be much of a shame to admit that you had your wish broken. May it be an excuse for something worse, at least we all have an idea of what was, somewhat, taken away from us. Or broken.

For whatever is broken, logically speaking, if it is needed, if it is what is supposed to be, if it is good and for the good, then it ought to be mended. These requisites, although may look like one, don’t necessarily have to be fulfilled, but in my personal view, they have to be.

Wishes of the heart, if they are the only wishes that truly exist (apart from plausible others) they are the hardest wishes of them all. They go far beyond death, and they shine the brightest. I noticed even if it fails to be granted, it remains the same. Something you may frown at, smile at, or nod at whenever you look back.

Decisions, decisions…how do you make the best out of it? How do you contemplate without thinking for the worse, or the worst? If it’s bad enough, it can’t get any worse, right? If it’s good, it’s not supposed to go away?

In one of my Educ classes, our professor told us a message whenever we’re out there, teaching students,

‘Preparation, preparation, preparation.’ Just three words, and all the same.

But how do you prepare for things you don’t know? I’d go on about values and virtues all day (and may not even get it right, nor succeed) but at the end of it all, I know one thing for sure.

It was a line from a movie, and the man said to the woman, because she lost trust in the world,

‘If something good happens along the way, you hold onto it, until it’s time to let go.’

Is man selfish, that even in the end, it’s always been a journey with one’s self?

The truth, perhaps, is that journeys are made like adventures. You’re not alone. You’re on your own, but never alone. Something is always out there. For all of us. And how we deal with it, how we overcome, go through… it tells us who we are.

So as far as broken wishes are concerned, I know for sure there were adventures that dealt with more than one wish. And every time a star dies, could a new one be born? I hope so. Even if not, let’s make as many wishes as possible.

After all, they’re wishes. Some of them are bound to come true.

Mrs. Corpus-Caraan

We used to call her Ms. Corpus.

It was Art Class, and we formally began attending this 30-45 minute classes in 1^st grade. (I think it was 1^st, and if not, 3^rd.) I can still remember the aisle made out of wooden tables, assembled in a pair of columns, each segment comprising of rectangular drawing boards facing each other. I can’t forget the messy papers and the residue from the erasers. So many mistakes, so little opportunity to cover it.

There was an issue with the borders. 1 inch on all sides, or was it 2 inches in some sides? Write your name, section, class number, name of teacher and the title of your work, or the topic at hand.

There was shading, sketching, exploring dimensions, ‘point of views’ (my baptism to ‘bird’s eye view’ and the beauty of corners), abstraction, and mock paints.

Once I mock-painted the ‘Women Running on the Beach’ of Picasso, so I could get my work featured in the annual exhibit (it was an annual project to create mock-paintings of renowned painters.) I was already in 6^th grade, and I wanted to give back something to my art class so I painted this abstract rendition from a Picasso-inspired book I found in our drawers at home.

The exhibit came and past, and my painting was nowhere to be found. I thought to myself, ‘too many good paintings were out already. I guess Ms. Corpus had her hands full.’

During one of our last art classes, Ms. Corpus took our attention and showed a painting in class. It showed two women running half-naked along a shore, and she asked, ‘Who’s painting is this? I was so busy during the exhibit, I forgot to hang this up. This is one of the best we have. It could have been our focal point.’

I was slightly uninterested in taking a look, but when I finally did, I couldn’t forget that moment.

I slowly stood up from my chair, bringing my odd 5 feet 4 inches body up to walk along that long aisle. I heard gushing voices and saw disbelieved faces at the corner of my eye. And then Ms. Corpus showed a pained face, ‘I’m so sorry, I forgot, we were doing so many things. I forgot to write your name …’

To be honest, it didn’t matter to me anymore that my painting didn’t get itself the opportunity to be hung in that exhibit; the fact that one of the best teachers in the world recognized my work as a great one was more than enough. And that half-a-minute walk of fame retrieving my work was so precious, it must’ve been an exhibition in itself.

Some time later, as I was still holding my rolled work, checking it every now and then, a good old friend from another class saw it and was shocked, ‘You made that? Ms. Corpus was asking us if any of us made that. So you did?’

Getting offended is out of the question already. I understand that whatever skill or talent I have in sketching or painting had long been overlooked, but to myself, whatever learning I had, wouldn’t have been possible on the first place, if it weren’t for that Art Teacher who taught us how to free ourselves during her class.

So thank you, now-called, Mrs. Caraan. Our beloved Ms. Corpus. Now still a passionate Art Teacher, inspiring students alike, and a family-woman to boot.

I know for a fact she had been inspiring generations of women to pursue art, a lot of them I had the pleasure to speak with (some continuing to Fine Arts in UP, or an art-related course in other respective Colleges.)

I just had to give this recognition, this memory as well, because if it weren’t for this past, I wouldn’t have gotten the praise I get in my preschool, from my co-workers and ‘bosses’, and even from the people I study and work with in UA&P.

SHSians, Holy girls, I know you feel me :) and I am sure you have stories of your own with this remarkable woman.